


I Want to Hold Your Hand

by incessant



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 15:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6760312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incessant/pseuds/incessant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loosely based on this prompt: "You used to take my hand when in big crowds but now it's whenever and I'm getting suspicious."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want to Hold Your Hand

The first time Finn slips his hand into Poe’s, Poe startles and nearly jerks away.

They’re standing in the more crowded section of the airfield, Poe in his bright orange flightsuit and Finn tucked into his trusty leather jacket. Pilots, medics, and their droids rush around, people tumbling out of X-wings and even a couple freighters, all in various states of distress. Poe isn’t quite sure where the battle was; he’d stayed behind as BB-8 underwent repairs (someone might have spilled some of Leia’s smuggled Corellian whiskey on the poor thing), but from the looks of things, it wasn’t pretty.

“You okay, buddy?” Poe manages to ask when he gathers himself, but he’s worried too much concern leaks into his voice. He can feel Finn’s fingers trembling slightly, and if it hadn’t been for the fact something was so obviously _wrong_ a blush would have stolen its way across his cheeks.

Finn shakes his head, pressing himself tightly into Poe’s side. “It’s just . . .” He stops, and even though it’s barely noticeable Poe can still tell he’s blushing as he glances at his feet.

Poe squeezes his hand lightly, hoping to be reassuring.

“It’s just that there’s so much _noise_ ,” Finn tries again. “And people.” As if on cue, an entire maintenance crew shouting orders runs past them toward the flaming T-70 X-wing that barely landed successfully, a med droid trailing in their wake as the pilot is dragged from the cockpit. There’s a scream. “And so much _pain_.” His voice is shaking just as hard as the rest of him, but his hand has a death grip on Poe’s.

“I just—” Finn flinches as a formation of starfighters passes overhead and a siren sounds somewhere on the base. “I just need someone to calm me down and you were closest and I can’t handle all of this—this _chaos_ , I mean, the first time I got sent planetside for a real battle was to Jakku and I couldn’t even handle that so now . . .” He keeps talking, blabbering about FN-2003 and trooper gear and TIE fighters, and Poe thinks that if he squeezes any tighter all the bones in his hand will break. But he just nods while Finn keeps anxiously going on and on about Phasma and Jakku as he slowly maneuvers both of them away from the crowds and toward the quieter edge of the base until they’re sitting inside an empty hangar.

Poe keeps nodding and murmuring acknowledgement at appropriate intervals, Finn’s brown eyes getting wider and less fear-glazed the longer he talks. Poe can’t bring himself to stop Finn’s rant or let go of the warm hand wrapped around his.

Finn is talking more animatedly now, but not as hysterically. His breath is less erratic and he gestures with his free hand as he explains his first encounter with Rey and explosions and BB-8 telling her to attack him after their narrow escape from the Finalizer. He looks so much more alive than he did mere minutes ago, eyes brightening sweetly as he continues recounting his story. Poe can’t stop thinking about how adorable Finn looks, completely engaged in the one-sided conversation. He barely fights down the flush rising to his cheeks. It’s not until Finn trails off, notably steadier, that Poe realizes he’s staring.

He clears his throat. “Finn, buddy, you good?” he asks gently as his friend looks around at their surroundings, a bit confused.

“When . . . when did we get here?”

Poe chuckles, a hand raking through his dark hair. “While you were talking. But seriously, buddy, how are you?”

Finn just nods, awkwardly fumbling in an attempt to detach his hand from their tangled-together fingers. “’M fine, sorry,” he mumbles.

Poe nods, smiling softly. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the contact.

 

The second time, BB-8 alerts Poe of their friend’s presence before a warm, rough hand latches on to his. The droid whirs and beeps excitedly—it’s the first time it has seen Finn since it underwent repairs, and the small BB unit quickly speeds up to roll at Finn’s feet.

But even though Poe would never be unhappy to see Finn, worry overcomes his own enthusiasm. It’s the middle of the night and he’s on his way back from a late briefing with Leia, but he remembers Finn retiring to his room hours ago.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” he wonders, slowing his brisk pace to a stop to turn and face the ex-trooper.

He sees Finn clench his teeth before nodding, shifting so Poe can’t see his face.

“Nightmare?” Poe presses, gently.

Finn’s grip tightens slightly, but he doesn’t answer.

Poe doesn’t push anymore. He understands nightmares, but he also understands wanting privacy and comfort.

“Are you going away again?” Finn whispers, shaky.

Poe sighs. “Yeah, bud, there’ve been reports of First Order skirmishes on a couple of backwater planets in the Outer Rim, and normally we wouldn’t care, but these planets all have iron ore and mineral deposits. Very valuable. We need to get as many supplies and Resistance sympathizers off the surface before the First Order . . . takes matters into their own hand.”

Finn is nodding jerkily. “And, um,” he frowns. “When do you go?”

“Bright and early the day after tomorrow.” BB-8 whirs excitedly. “The General wants to make sure the other pilots are completely rested before we go, I know Jess has been fighting some sort of flu. . . .” Poe trails off. “Finn? Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Finn looks startled, quickly shaking his head and yanking his hand back as if he was touched by fire. “Nothing. It’s nothing.” He meets Poe’s eyes for the first time. “Nothing,” he repeats, flashing him a see-through smile with watery eyes.

He practically runs away before Poe can stop him, BB-8 whistling sadly in binary as he watches their friend go.

 

The third time they hold hands, Finn is sitting stiffly on the edge of a cot in the medbay as a doctor carefully stitches a gash in his lower abdomen shut. Poe is standing beside them, holding an ice pack to a bump on his head while Finn holds his hand hostage. Doing his best not to shake.

“Buddy, I can’t believe you hijacked a ride on a _shuttle_ to track all us down. And then engaging an entire platoon of stormtroopers without backup and a single blaster? What were you thinking, sweetheart?” The endearment slips out unintentionally, and Poe isn’t sure if the tips of Finn’s ears heat up at the scolding or the sweetheart. Both, maybe. He kind of hopes it was the latter.

“I just wanted to help,” he mutters. “You guys were in trouble.” His lower lips juts out and Poe finds himself staring.

“Well.” The sentiment makes him flush, and he’s tempted to press the ice pack to his cheeks instead. “At least you’re safe, buddy. Dunno what I’d do without you,” he adds under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

Finn sucks in a hiss of air suddenly, body instinctively curling away from the doctor and her needle, and Poe rubs soothing circles into the back of his hand.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, love, I know it hurts,” the woman murmurs. If someone were to notice, Poe would have denied the pang of irrational envy that caused him to stiffen, but no one does.

The doctor smiles sheepishly. “Last stitch, all right? Then I’ll clean it, put on a bacta patch, and we’ll be all done.”

Finn nods once, curt, and goes back to concentrating on squeezing the life out of Poe’s hand.

 

The fourth time Finn slips his hand into Poe’s, Poe thinks nothing of it. Rey is coming back today, probably just jitters. Distantly, he registers _why_ Finn would be nervous about seeing Rey again. He knows they were close, just not quite how close. _What if they had a thing? What if Finn has just been holding his hand because he gets anxious, and nothing more?_ Poe frowns. Wait. Since when did he want it to mean more?

“What’s up, buddy?” He steels himself for an answer he doesn’t want, hoping Finn doesn’t notice.

“My hand is cold.”

It’s not what he was expecting and Poe laughs, relieved. They leave it at that.

 

The fifth time their hands find each other, Poe is slightly confused and just a little suspicious. There’s no big crowd in sight, no loud noises, no wounded soldiers or blaster fire, and from what he can tell, Finn seems perfectly content. He frowns. It’s not unpleasant, no, definitely not, it’s just . . . mixed signals. 

Judging by the look on Rey’s face when she catches up with the two of them in the mess hall, he’s not the only person who’s a little unsure of the development. Rey stares at them openly, eyes narrowed. Finn seems oblivious as he plays with Poe’s fingers, but Poe shrinks slightly under her gaze. It’s like she can see into his soul—then again, who knows what a Force-sensitive can actually do. He’s never understood what the Force really is.

“I know I’ve been gone for a while, but did you two really get together already? Without me here to give Finn away with my blessing?”

Finn jumps, dropping Poe’s hand abruptly, and Poe chokes as he tries to swallow.

“Uhh . . .”

Rey frowns. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t have my blessing, you’re the cutest couple _ever_ , but seriously.” She looks a bit hurt. “Now I owe Jess a date.”

“You think we’d be a cute couple?” Finn asks at the same time Poe says, “You bet on our relationship because Pava wanted a date?”

They turn to look at each other, Poe’s eyes wide and Finn trying to shrink away to the side, both men trying to hide their blushes.

“Well, I’ll probably still go on a date with her, but—hey! Don’t change the subject!” The confusion and suspicion are gone, replaced by enthusiasm in Rey’s smile. “So are you a thing yet or not?”

“Yet?” Finn wonders.

“Sadly, no,” Poe answers.

The pilot and stormtrooper make startled eye contact again.

Rey chuckles. “Aha! So I don’t owe Jess a date, she owes _me_ one!”

There’s a long moment of silence. “I don’t think you guys understand how bets are supposed to work?” Poe blurts, but he’s almost lost his confidence and it sounds more like an awkwardly phrased question than an offensive statement.

Finn just stares. “What do you mean, ‘sadly, no’?” he looks incredulous, dazed, maybe even awestruck. “You want to be a thing?”

Poe stands there, unsure of what to say, and Rey grins, clapping her hands together. “You two are so _gay_ for each other! Just shut up and admit it.”

“Says the girl who bet in a way that would end up getting her a date with another girl no matter how it turned out!” Poe counters, but his cheeks are on fire for sure now, probably bright red, too. He sighs, not even attempting to deny the fact that _yes, he is so gay for Finn. Stupid Force-sensitives._

He glances over at the trooper, attempting to be subtle. Both of his companions can say he isn’t.

Somehow, Finn’s cheeks seem redder than his, and he’s staring at his feet as he shuffles nervously. His fingers keep tapping anxious patterns on his thighs. That’s when Poe realizes.

The hand-holding is to keep him grounded and stop him from fidgeting, but Poe is the one who gets to keep him grounded. _Poe_.

It’s an unconscious decision, really, if asked he wouldn’t be able to say what exactly motivated him to do so, but now one of Finn’s big, warm hands is locked with his and Rey and Finn just keep staring.

“Wait.” Finn sounds quiet and shaky, but this time he doesn’t let go of the other man’s hand. “ _Do_ you want to be a thing?”

Poe squeezes his hand lightly.

“Because I would really, _really_ like to be a thing,” he adds, just in case all of the unspoken subtext hasn’t been enough for them to figure they both like each other. Well, apparently it hadn’t been enough for the past couple of weeks, but. No matter.

Poe has never been this tongue-tied before. He’s dated plenty of people—well, that sounds bad—but he _has_ been in relationships before. He can’t help but wonder if Finn has; he does mention FN-2199 and FN-2003 a lot. But does it really matter? _No_ , he realizes, _of course it doesn’t._

“I think . . .” Poe smiles softly, staring at Finn unashamedly. “I think I would like that, too.”

“You’re welcome,” Rey sing-songs, looking a little too smug. “Jess owes me more than one date.”

Finn beams, blindingly bright, somehow appearing entirely unflustered. Poe likes Finn’s smile, a lot. It’s not his fault he can’t help but kiss it.

 

The sixth time they link hands together, neither of them say a word, but neither of them let go, either. Finn smiles. Poe kisses him.

Rey just smirks and rolls her eyes before slipping her own hand into the waiting grasp of a certain female pilot.


End file.
